"Hello?"
Joey put the phone to his ear, his jet-black eyebrows scrunched together. As he listened, he twiddled with the phone cord and stared at the mess of toys laid out in front of him.
"My day was okay, I guess. Just like every day."
Pause.
"Well, in class I learned about multiplication. It's kind of hard, but I know that one times a number always equals that number. For example, one times two will always be two. I think that part's easy."
Pause.
"Oh, yeah. Mrs. Good also read us a story called The Wolf's Chicken Stew. It's about this mean wolf who wants to eat chicken stew and finds a chicken walking in a forest. But before he catches her, he decides to leave food at her door so that she can get fat." He let out a silly giggle before continuing. "He makes all different kinds of food like doughnuts and cake and pancakes so that the chicken will get big enough for the stew. Then one night, he goes to the house, but she opens the door and it turns out that she had little kids eating the food the whole time!" He laughed again. "And in the end, he didn't want to make chicken stew anymore and baked chocolate chip cookies for all the chicks. I really like that story."
Pause.
"I like books, too. Some of the stories get funny and silly. And I also like the pictures in them," Joey said, smiling.
Pause.
"I read a lot during lunch and recess. And I draw pictures sometimes, too."
Pause.
"My friends?" Joey's smile disappeared. "Oh. Yeah, they play during recess. Most people play handball and go on the slides."
Pause.
"I want to play with them, too. I really do. But they don't like me."
Pause.
"They...They think I'm weird. They think I'm one of those special kids who get pulled out of class sometimes to be with a different teacher. And they also think I'm a big crybaby. They see how I'm always lonely and sad, but I don't think they understand. They're all so lucky to have friends and be happy all the time. They're normal." His voice broke as he spoke, but he continued. "I can never be normal like everyone else. I'm nobody. And I think I'm always gonna be alone."
He let out a long cry, his hand squeezing the plastic phone even tighter. He let the tears come out because the cry just never seemed to stop.
"Joey, dinner's ready!" his mother called from downstairs.
Joey wiped away his tears and yelled, "Okay, Mommy! I'm coming!" Then in a lower voice, he said, "I gotta go eat dinner. Bye-bye."
He put the phone down and pressed the on/off button. Sniffling, he scrambled up to his feet and exited the room.
He liked to see people talking on their phones all the time. And he liked to pretend to be like them, with his own friend to talk to. It was the only way for him to feel like he could be somebody that people would want to befriend.
To feel like he could belong.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
